tibvavy  of  <the  Cheotygiccd  gminavy 

PRINCETON  ■  NEW  JERSEY 
PRESENTED  BY 

W.W.    Woodward  III 


BT  125 

.J68 

1910 

Jowett , 

John  Henry, 

1864- 

1923. 

Our  blessed 

dead 

Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2010  with  funding  from 

Princeton  Theological  Seminary  Library 


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Our  Blessed  Dead 


Our  Blessed  Dead 


ft--,         ipsa 


By 

J.   H.   JOWETT 

Author  of  "The  Silver  Lining  " 


New  York    Chicago    Toronto 

Fleming  H.  Revell  Company 

London        and       Edinburgh 


Copyright,  19 10,  by 
FLEMING  H.  REVELL  COMPANY 


New  York :  158  Fifth  Avenue 
Chicago:  17  North  Wabash  Ave. 
Toronto:  25  Richmond  Street,  W. 
London  :  21  Paternoster  Square 
Edinburgh  :     100    Princes    Street 


Our  Blessed  Dead 


"  Blessed  are  the  dead  which  die  in  the 
Lord  from  henceforth;  yea,  saith  the 
Spirit,  that  they  may  rest  from  their  la- 
bors :  for  their  works  follow  with  them." 
— Revelation  xiv.  ij. 

"  r%  LESSED    are    the    dead 
|j   which  die  in  the  Lord." 
It  is  one  of  the  supreme 
tokens  of  God's  grace  that  we  are 
able  to  keep  our  thoughts  away 
from  death.     The  boat  of  our  life 
is  undeviatingly  set  for  that  mys- 
terious shore — wind  and  tide  and 
[5] 


Our  Blessed  Dead 

circumstance  all  conspiring — and 
yet,  we  are  able  to  pass  whole 
years  of  the  voyage  without  a 
thought  of  our  destination.  We 
can  lounge  in  a  deck-chair  and 
read  a  light  romance,  and  we  can 
enjoy  the  revel  and  the  games 
even  when  the  unillumined  mys- 
tery is  darkening  on  the  horizon. 
If  it  were  otherwise  the  springs 
of  life  would  be  poisoned  at  their 
source.  But  it  is  a  marvellous 
mercy  of  Providence,  a  sacred 
ability  conferred  by  grace,  that 
we  are  able  to  sing,  and  laugh, 
and  work,  and  play,  even  in  our 
[6] 


Our  Blessed  Dead 

swift   passage   to  the  black  un- 
known. 

And  yet,  as  the  years  increase, 
we  do  occasionally  lift  our  eyes 
from  the  deck-games  and  scan 
the  horizon,  or  we  let  our  book 
lie  open  in  the  lap,  while  the  soul 
goes  sounding  its  lonely  way  into 
tracts  and  circumstances  unre- 
vealed.  But  even  then  the  ruling 
motive  is  not  so  much  of  fear  as 
of  solemn  and  sobering  wonder. 
What  shall  we  discover,  and  what 
will  it  be  like  ?  Will  the  voyage 
end  in  an  eternal  sleep,  or  in  a 
short  sleep  and  a  great  awaken- 
[7] 


Our  Blessed  Dead 

ing  ?  And  when  "  the  soul  wakens 
and  the  shadows  flee,"  what  will  be 
the  consciousness  at  the  dawning? 
And  such  meditation  is  not 
forbidden.  Nay,  the  Christian 
Scriptures,  while  they  detach  our 
thoughts  from  death,  seek  to  lure 
them  to  the  serene  glory  of  the 
emancipated  life.  To  dwell  upon 
the  gloaming  might  be  crippling, 
to  dwell  upon  the  dawning  is  en- 
riching. And  it  is  the  dawning 
which  has  been  the  light  and  in- 
spiration of  the  Christian  saints, 
and  which  has  made  them  brave 
and  songful  in  the  dark  and  troub- 
[8] 


Our  Blessed  Dead 

led  ways  of  time.  "If  spared 
till  to-morrow,"  sings  one  of  these 
children  of  the  dawn,  "  I  shall 
have  finished  the  eighty-second 
year  of  my  pilgrimage.  Eighty- 
two  years  He  has  been  with  me  1 
It  was  in  the  year  1830  that  I 
found  my  Saviour,  or  rather,  that 
He  found  me,  .  .  .  and  I  have 
never  parted  company  with  Him 
all  these  sixty-two  years.  More 
than  that,  He  has  given  me  ■  that 
blessed  hope,'  the  prospect  of  be- 
ing forever  in  the  kingdom  with 
Him  who  has  redeemed  me  by 
His  blood." 

[9] 


Our  Blessed  Dead 

And  listen  again  to  the  saints. 
"For  several  days  I  have  had 
time  and  freedom  in  the  forenoon 
to  spend  two  hours  in  prayer. 
To-day,  when  thus  engaged,  I 
was  led  forward  in  thought  to 
realize  myself  standing  before  the 
Lamb,  without  a  single  sinful 
tendency,  and  without  one  draw- 
back in  the  way  of  the  slightest 
uncertainty.  'Forever  with  the 
Lord  ! '  Forever  with  all  those 
holy,  happy  friends!  Forever 
and  forever,  holy  and  without 
blame,  like  the  Lord  Himself!" 

Nothing  you  see  of  the  sunset, 
[10] 


Our  Blessed  Dead 

but  all  of  the  sunrise  1  Nothing 
about  the  divesting,  but  all  about 
the  robing  1  Nothing  about  the 
putting  off  of  the  corruptible, 
but  all  about  the  putting  on  of 
incorruption !  That  is  ever  the 
emphasis  in  the  life  of  the  tri- 
umphant saints,  and  that  is  the 
emphasis  in  this  benediction  from 
the  book  of  Revelation. 

Now,  the  evangel  arises  in  the 
midst  of  a  chapter  of  terrific  up- 
heaval and  convulsion.  It  is  like 
some  sweet  and  tender  lyric  sung 
in  the  very  thick  of  a  grim  and 
awful  tragedy.     "  Blessed  are  the 

[»] 


Our  Blessed  Dead 

dead  "  !  That  in  itself  is  some- 
thing to  think  about,  that  the  be- 
atitude rises  in  the  death-chamber, 
and  rings  out  its  trumpet-peal  by 
the  open  grave.  And  yet  I  am 
bound  to  say  that  this  trumpet- 
peal  does  not  concern  the  entire 
cemetery,  but  only  sounds  over 
particular  graves.  The  beatitude 
is  not  for  the  dead,  but  for  "  the 
dead  who  die  in  the  Lord."  Con- 
cerning the  merely  dead  we  are 
told  little  or  nothing.  All  I  can 
say  is  that  down  that  road  the 
Lord  has  lit  no  lamps,  and  I  can 
see  no  light,  and  I  have  no  revela- 

[12] 


Our  Blessed  Dead 

tion.  All  the  light  is  on  the  other 
road,  which  "  shineth  more  and 
more  even  unto  perfect  day,"  and 
it  is  there  that  this  beatitude  is 
raising  its  unconquerable  strains 
— "  Blessed  are  the  dead  which 
die  in  the  Lord." 

I  think,  therefore,  it  will  be  well 
worth  our  while  to  let  our  thoughts 
consider  the  inheritance  of  the 
blessed  dead.  And  first  of  all, 
we  are  told  that  they  "  die  in  the 
Lord."  Now,  this  little  preposi- 
tion "  in  "  signifies  a  vital  union 
as  distinguished  from  a  superficial 
connection.    The  superficial  con- 

[13] 


Our  Blessed  Dead 

nection  with  the  Lord  may  be 
credal,  or  formal,  or  ecclesiastical, 
or  denominational,  and  in  all  these 
there  may  be  a  fatal  absence  of 
all  vital  fellowship  with  the  Lord. 
Vital  union  with  Christ  is  essen- 
tially an  incorporation.  It  is  not 
a  connection  effected  by  some  ec- 
clesiastical knot,  some  denomina- 
tional tie,  some  ritualistic  liga- 
ment ;  it  is  the  living  union  of  the 
branch  with  the  vine  ;  it  is  a  com- 
munion in  whose  mystic  channels 
there  flows  the  deepest  life  of  men 
and  God.  It  is  a  union  so  vital 
and  so  immediate  that  if  Christ 
CM] 


Our  Blessed  Dead 

be    alive  the  soul   must  live  in 
Him. 

When  I  had  got  thus  far  I 
thought  it  might  be  helpful  to 
get  away  from  my  phraseology 
and  to  hear  the  fresher  expres- 
sions of  another.  And  so  I  turned 
to  John  Pulsford,  one  of  the  deep- 
est and  rarest  mystics  of  the  last 
generation,  a  man  who  suffused 
the  common  road  with  divine  ra- 
diance, and  who  was  endowed  with 
exquisite  spiritual  discernment. 
Well,  let  me  give  you  a  little  pas- 
sage from  an  assumed  dialogue 
between  the  creature  and  the  Lord. 
[IS] 


Our  Blessed  Dead 

The  Creature ;  "  But,  O  my 
Lord,  if  I  drink  Thy  life  into  my 
soul,  will  it  not  work  a  great 
change  in  the  very  nature  of  my 
soul?" 

The  Lord:  "A  great  change 
indeed.  Thou  hast  seen  the 
change  from  night  to  day  and 
the  change  from  winter  to  sum- 
mer. But  the  change  in  thee  will 
be  still  greater,  and  more  wonder- 
ful. My  life  will  do  away  with 
death  in  thee.  .  .  ." 

The  Creature:     "May  I  hear, 

my  Saviour,  how  it  will  do  away 

with  death  in  me?" 
[16] 


Our  Blessed  Dead 

The  Lord:  "  My  life  will  re- 
move death  by  putting  all  evil 
from  thee.  Silently  and  grad- 
ually, as  winter  is  changed  into 
summer,  will  my  life  steal  upon 
thee,  until  there  is  no  other  life  in 
thee." 

The  Creature  :  "  My  holy, 
gracious  Lord,  ...  if  Thy  life 
goes  on  changing  the  nature  and 
form  of  my  inner  man,  what  will 
the  successive  changes  come  to 
at  last?" 

The  Lord:  "  At  last,  in  virtue 
of  the  kindred  nature  which  My 
life  will  generate  and  perfect  in 
E*7] 


Our  Blessed  Dead 


thee,  thou  wilt  be  able  to  dwell 
with  Me  and  to  see  Me  as  I  am." 

Such  is  life  "in  Christ ";  and 
11  Blessed  are  the  dead "  who  so 
"  die  in  the  Lord." 

And    now    our    beatitude  still 

further  unfolds  the  inheritance  of 

the    blessed    dead.     "  They    rest 

from  their  labors"     A  word  which 

by  no  means  implies  that  they 

settle  down  to  a  life  of  passive 

idleness.      Quite     the     contrary. 

At   the  very   heart  of  this  word 

"  labors  "  there  is  a  sense  of  faint- 

ness  and  exhaustion !     It  is  a  word 

of     burdensomeness,     wan     and 
[18] 


Our  Blessed  Dead 

drooping,  like  a  stricken  plant. 
The  outstanding  significance  of 
the  word  is  not  the  work,  but  the 
weariness  of  the  work.  Yes,  it  is 
a  tired  word,  which  has  lost  its 
spring!  "And  Jesus,  being 
wearied  with  His  journey "  ! 
There  you  have  it,  the  identical 
word,  carrying  the  sense  of "  spent- 
ness,"  of  limitation,  of  exhaustion. 
And  therefore  when  we  are  told 
that  "the  dead  in  Christ"  "rest 
from  their  labors,"  we  are  not  to 
take  it  as  meaning  that  they  rest 
from  their  work,  but  from  the 
weariness  of  work,  which  is  a  far 
[«9] 


Our  Blessed  Dead 

nobler  emancipation.  To  take 
away  the  faintness  is  infinitely 
more  gracious  than  to  take  us  out 
of  the  crusade.  The  redemption 
of  our  blessed  dead  is  redemption 
from  tiredness,  redemption  from 
the  limitations  which  arise  from 
small  capital;  it  is  redemption 
from  the  drooping  and  the  wither- 
ing ;  it  is  entry  into  the  tireless  life. 

"  There  everlasting  spring  abides, 
And  never-withering  flowers  !  " 

That  is  the  word  which  carries 
the  grace  of  the  evangel — "  never- 
withering  " — the  land   where  the 

[20] 


Our  Blessed  Dead 

inhabitants  never  say,  "  I  am 
sick."  And  so  we  might  very  ac- 
curately paraphrase  the  familiar 
sentence  in  our  beatitude  as  fol- 
lows :  "  They  rest  from  the  labor- 
iousness  of  labor,"  and  great  serv- 
ices become  their  native  delight. 
"  They  serve  Him  day  and  night 
in  His  temple." 

Now,  it  is  not  difficult  to  name 
some  of  the  things  which  make 
present  labor  so  laborsome,  and 
from  which  the  blessed  dead  have 
found  their  freedom.  There  are 
the  limitations  of  the  body.  We 
so  soon  begin  to  encroach  upon 

[21] 


Our  Blessed  Dead 


our  physical  capital,  and  the 
laboring  body  becomes  a  drag 
upon  the  eager  spirit.  "The 
spirit  indeed  is  willing,  but  the 
flesh  is  weak."  Even  the  evan- 
gelization of  the  world  must  tarry 
while  "  Jesus,  being  wearied,  sat 
thus  by  the  well.,,  How  much 
more  we  could  presumably  do  for 
the  kingdom  if  the  vital  flame  did 
not  so  speedily  smoulder  and 
flicker  down  into  its  socket !  But 
it  is  evident  that  here  our  very 
tiredness  is  a  necessary  factor  in 
the  campaign,  and  that  the  frailty 
of   the  body  is    the    mysterious 

[22] 


Our  Blessed  Dead 

servant  of  the  spirit.  But  our 
blessed  dead  "drop  the  robe  of 
flesh,"  because  its  ministry  is 
ended,  and  "they  rest  from  the 
labor  "  and  travail  of  physical  in- 
firmity. 

But  there  is  a  second  element  of 
laboriousness  which  burdens  our 
temporal  service,  and  that  is  the 
seeming  fruitlessness  of  present 
labor.  We  toil  at  the  wilderness 
for  years,  and  it  appears  a  wilder- 
ness still.  And  because  we  can- 
not see  flowers  and  fruits  we  be- 
come despondent  about  growth. 
Because  we  are  not  always  seeing 

[23] 


Our  Blessed  Dead 

results  we  become  dubious  about 
processes.  And  we  grow  faint 
and  weary,  and  the  song  goes 
out  of  our  work,  and  the  gay 
service  becomes  a  humdrum  task. 
Such  despair  is  ever  our  peril,  but 
it  need  never  be  our  necessity. 
There  have  been  men  who  have 
toiled  and  toiled  at  their  desert- 
patch,  and  even  when  no  green 
blade  has  appeared  to  cheer  the 
grim  waste  they  have  "endured 
as  seeing  Him  who  is  invisible." 
But,  apart  from  this,  we  have  not 
the  eyes  as  yet  to  see  the  sure 
ministries  of  spiritual  processes 
[24] 


Our  Blessed  Dead 

going  on  in  the  secret  place.  Our 
eyes  are  holden,  there  are  neces- 
sary veils,  earth-clouds  form  about 
us,  and  "  we  walk  by  faith  and 
not  by  sight."  But  our  blessed 
dead,  when  they  pass  behind  the 
veil,  become  superior  to  the  veil, 
and  every  veil  becomes  transpar- 
ent. They  look  "  with  other  eyes 
than  ours,"  they  see  the  first 
awakenings  of  mighty  destinies, 
they  trace  the  river  from  its  spring, 
they  "  know  even  as  also  they  are 
known,"  they  have  the  open 
vision,  and  they  rest  from  the 
laboriousness  of  uncertain  service. 
[25] 


Our  Blessed  Dead 

And  there  is  one  further  ele- 
ment in  the  burdensomeness  of 
present  labors,  and  that  is  our 
broken  correspondence  with  God. 
God  is  not  always  real  enough  to 
be  impressive.  Sometimes  He 
seems  so  gloriously  real  and  im- 
mediate that  the  intervening  veil 
is  only  like  a  bridal-veil,  and  we 
can  almost  see  His  face!  "In 
the  year  that  King  Uzziah  died  I 
saw  the  Lord."  But  the  alien 
season  returns,  and  the  bridal-veil 
becomes  a  fog,  and  the  soul  cries 
out,  "  O  that  I  knew  where  I 
might  find  Him!"  And  the 
[26] 


Our  Blessed  Dead 

seeming  nearness  or  distance  of 
the  Lord  makes  all  the  difference 
to  the  buoyancy  or  the  weariness 
of  our  work.  But  our  blessed 
dead  know  neither  bridal-veil  nor 
fogc  They  have  died  into  the 
open  glory,  into  the  fellowship 
where  there  is  no  night,  the  land 
of  which  "  the  Lamb  is  the  light 
thereof,"  and  where  service  is  al- 
ways in  the  sunshine,  "and  sor- 
row and  sighing  have  passed 
away."  They  see  God,  and  they 
rest  from  the  laboriousness  of 
broken  communion. 

And  one  word  on  the  remaining 
[27] 


Our  Blessed  Dead 

strain  in  the  beatitude :  "  Their 
works  follow  with  them."  They 
enter  the  land  of  glory  like  mon- 
archs  with  princely  retinues,  and 
their  retinue  is  the  radiant  as- 
semblage of  good  works  which 
they  have  done  in  their  pilgrim- 
age through  time.  Those  chival- 
rous doings  reappear  at  the  gates 
of  day,  and  like  manifested  spir- 
itual presences  they  accompany 
the  soul  into  "  the  burning  bliss  " 
of  the  presence  of  God.  "  Their 
works  follow  with  them."  And 
the  glorious  retinue  of  some  of 
our    earthly  obscurities    will    be 

[28] 


Our  Blessed  Dead 

matter  of  great  surprise  when  the 
secrets  of  men  are  revealed.  And 
so  "  Blessed,"  aye,  thrice  blessed, 
"are  the  dead  which  die  in  the 
Lord ;  yea,  saith  the  Spirit,  that 
they  may  rest  from  their  labors, 
for  their  works  follow  with  them." 

u  O    blest   communion  I     Fellowship 
divine ! 
We  feebly  struggle,  they  in  glory 

shine : 
Yet  all  are  one  in  Thee,  for  all  are 
Thine. 

Alleluia ! " 


[29] 


DATE  DUE 

S«fe 

056-WnfTJ 

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a&**W«** 

GAYLORD 

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